So Much for Separate Ways
by Mezzo-chan
Summary: There are an ogre, an angel and a girl walking along different roads. The thoughts that follow the parting of ways are never simple.


**So Much for Separate Ways**

_**By Mezzo-chan**_

_

* * *

The coin came up heads _

_WHAT!_

_Then what was this whole journey for?_

* * *

There is an old man walking down a road. He is old because the one watching him is a runny nosed child who has escaped his chores. He is aged and hairy, tall and bony like a tanned skeleton. He is ancient and very nearly twenty. Of course to a boy of five, sixteen is old as dirt, and at almost twenty, you might as well be dead. But the old man continues untroubled along the dirt road.

* * *

There is a young man walking down a road. He is young to the watchful eyes of an elderly grandmother, who has seen three generations of children like him come and go from her humble home. He is young and statuesque, quiet and thoughtful behind his wire rimmed glasses. He is just a baby, barely twenty. Of course to a woman of eighty-five sixteen is still in diapers, and at twenty you're barely learning to stand on your own two feet. But the young man wanders tranquilly along the dirt road.

* * *

There is a cottage up a hill, along a narrow road. Along the road there is a girl, walking slowly as if in a dream. It is small and cramped, thatched poorly and built hastily on the little hill. But for now it is home.

* * *

It is clear to the boy now that the old man is an ogre or a demon in search of souls to eat. Look at the scars along his cheek, and the raggedy hair that can not be of this world. See how he sneers and kicks at a passing dog and scratches his scraggly chin in wicked contemplation. Surely he is there to punish the boy for his misdeeds!

* * *

It is clear now that the young man is a water sprite or angel in search of his heavenly robes. Look at his delicate features, and the pale skin that cannot be of this world. See how he sighs so majestically and looks to the clouds with the forlorn beauty of a wilting flower? Surely he is there to bless the woman for her virtuous behavior!

* * *

It is clear to the girl now that the shack is not going to keep the cold winter out. She will have to borrow some supplies from the neighbors. Look at the way the fire pit has fallen into disuse, and the old, rusted kettle in the corner. She sighs, and wonders how it came to this. Surely she is feeling the repercussions of cruel karma.

* * *

The old ogre has stopped walking. He's staring into the sun, an unwise thing to do if not for his intense ogre stare, which could easily make the sun go out in sheer terror. And although one could not tell just by looking, he is deep in thought. What is this feeling? It isn't hunger. It isn't being pissed off. It was an empty, hollow feeling. Not in his stomach but all over, especially in the regions where a lot of blood likes to spurt out from time to time when swords are present. The ogre doesn't realize it just yet, but he is lonely. Lonely without shrieking and insistent demands to drop what he was doing and assist.

* * *

The young angel has stopped strolling. He's gazing at the ground, a rather uneventful thing to do if not for his hazy stare, which could make the grass turn red from sheer girlish embarrassment. And any passerby can tell just by looking that he was in deep, focused thought. What is this feeling? It isn't guilt. It isn't being on edge. It was an persistent, high-strung feeling. Not in his tense shoulders but all over, especially in the region the layman calls, the "back of your mind". The sprite doesn't realize it just yet, but he is yearning. Yearning for heated arguments and constant pressures to stay a part of the group.

* * *

The girl has stopped worrying. She's gazing at the water she's attempting to boil with rapt fascination. But her mind is elsewhere. And were someone to be there, though she is painfully aware no one is, they would tell just by looking that she is weeping. The girl realizes it right away: she wants something more. She needs matter to fill up the empty wholes in space. She needs passionate fury and glacial tranquility. She needs constant threats of battle and moonlit nights with nothing but grass under her and them within earshot. She cries harder and a sob is barely heard over the roar of the sea.

* * *

The demon is lonely without someone to protect, someone to punch his arm and make him feel like being the hero sometimes, even if the way he achieves it is villainous. If he squints his eyes, he can see her half-smiling at nothing in particular. He grunts.

* * *

The angel yearns for the companionship, longs for days of just _them_ and not just _him_ and for the proverbial red string of fate that has wound itself in thick, convoluted knots all across Japan. If he squints his eyes he can see her whining about something insignificant. He sighs.

* * *

The girl needs two odd men who have said their good-byes and made her feel wanted and warm. If she squints she can see their contrasting outlines in the air around her. But only outlines. She needs the men to fill them. She sniffles.

* * *

The ogre is sprinting the opposite way. _Shit_ he mutters.

The angel is rushing back from where he came. _Damn_ he whispers.

They say nothing as they reach the crossroads.

They say nothing as they run side by side back towards the cliff.

They say nothing of the loneliness and the yearning.

They say nothing of the contentment they've lost, or the time they've spent, or the adventures they left strewn across the landscape.

They say nothing of the girl they've left behind.

They say nothing of the changes and tears and arguments and blood and emotions she's left in her wake.

They say nothing because they are thinking the same thing.

She whines. And complains. And insists.

She is bothersome. And possessive. And gets kidnapped a helluva lot.

And they don't remember how they ever lived without her.

There's an ogre and an angel running side by side up a dirt road to a broken down cottage by the sea.

They reach the door, hold their breaths and pause.

But only for a second.

The door is flung open.

The girl looks up. Her face is red.

There are men in the doorway. They fill up the empty space like something molten and coursing into the empty outlines she had tried so hard to ignore.

They look at her expectantly. She opens her mouth.

"Welcome back, guys. I made tea."

_**Fin**_


End file.
